Middle Age
Oftentimes during the routine molestation and exploitation that Michael subjected her to, he would tell her about his day. Where he went, who he'd interacted with, the highly illegal drugs he'd injected into his anus - the fundamental categories into which most of the details of life fall into. Young Taylor soaked it all up (along with the copious amounts of jizz Michael had stored up in his oversized balls at every occasion) dreaming of the day when she too, could talk about who she'd interacted with, where she'd gone, and the illegal drugs she'd injected into ''her ''anus. Indeed, it was during just one of these drunken adventures that Taylor finally worked up the courage to slip the clown mask off her left nipple, the cock ring out of her ear and the 13 inch dildo out of her nose to ask Michael if she could have a "day off", so to speak, so that she could gain these experiences for herself. Michael, in his infinite wisdom, agreed, upon one condition: Young Taylor would have to promise to kill at least one hooker during her adventures to be eligible for reentry into his palace upon her return. Indeed it is often said that the real test of a man is the strength of character with which he strangles his first hooker. Well, that's the philosophy which Michael's father had often expunged upon him while beating his mother over the head with his 15 inch monstrosity of a cock; and Michael would be damned if he didn't raise young Taylor according to this traditional family value regardless the ambiguity of her gender. By this point, Taylor was ready to accept to almost anything to gain freedom, albeit temporary freedom. And so it was, that she took her first unchained steps into the world... Taylor was met with a cacaphony of sounds, assaulted by the thunderous colors of unadulterated nature, and violently rammed up the ass by the first person she saw once she stepped out of the gate. This was 1980s Chicago, not exactly the safest place for a 15 year old to be wandering around alone. Taylor didn't mind though, she was used enough to this treatment. Instead, she continued to pan her gaze around the landscape and take it all in. This was her first exposure to the land and she didn't want to miss a thing, not the stars in the sky (caused by severe brain damage, it was the height of the afternoon) or the fireflies in the air. It was all magical to her, and once she stopped being foreably rocked back and forth, every detail appeared in crisp clarity as she had never even thought to imagine before. The rest of her day was a mundane blur which unfortunately went unrecorded by the historians and reporters of the day, and unremembered by Taylor to relate to others today due to the importance of what happened at the very end, when she started making her way to the affectionately named "Crack Palace- Asylum of Lunatics and Bane of Niggers", also known as the local police station, in search of a hooker to strangle. Upon entry, she was offered the customary gift of five ounces of weed and an anal bong (which she customarily turned down as it was well known around those parts that all of the officers shared the bong between themselves during their bacon and donut breaks) before being escorted to the inhouse brothel. Once there, she cast her gaze about the crop of strippers, prostitutes, whore, deviants, feminists, and soccer moms milling about like cows waiting to be fed. Being the inexperienced womanizer which she was at the time, the one of her choice was a short scrubby flat chested blond with a high pitched squeak and an annoying grin. She didn't know what it was, but there was something about this short haired blond which she could relate to. Perhaps it was some subliminal marks of abuse borne by merely the two of them which drew them together. It is strange in hindsight that the one with whom she felt the most comfortable and with whom she could empathize the most was the one who she chose to brutally and vindictively murder for no reason other than her captor molestor and drug supplier told her to. Upon realizing this flaw in her thinking, Taylor decided to learn a bit more about this hooker in order to find something to hate about her in order to justify the killing. She started with the name. Justin. Age. 13. Hobby. Singing. This went on for a couple of hours until Taylor had amassed a veritable trove of knowledge on the life of this young hooker. The hooker had been born in Canada, and had suffered genital mutilation at a young age following which she had taken up a career in singing which had borne fruit in the form of a ticket to tour through America, where a vicious supporter had clubbed her over the head and sold her into a life of slavery after being spurned as a gay lover. Taylor could not find anything to hate. It was the perfect life, the kind which she had only seen on TV in Disney movies or read about in her bedtime fairy tales. Then, as a feminist walked by, it suddenly struck her! What privilage this hooker had had, to live a life like that. And she hadn't even apologized for it once! What a bitch! And so it was, that Taylor crushed between her palms the throat of this hooker. She watched on in cold disintrest as the life slowly drained out of the hooker's eyes, and listened with boredom as the hooker's last words left her body in a sigh of breath..."Baby.....Baby no.....". This was a turning point in Taylor's life. She was detirmined to make some real changes to her life, and for the better for once. And so it was that she returned to Michael's Palance carrying the severed head of the hooker Justin, Canadian Singer, who in her life had been short, annoying, had short blonde hair, and was fond of the word "Baby".